


A remembrance of strange things

by Pseudothyrum



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood, Coffee, Crack, M/M, Priorities, Trick or Treating, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, definitely not ghosts, wall tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudothyrum/pseuds/Pseudothyrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is not enough coffee in the world to deal with Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wall of Cthulhu

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like every Night Vale story counts as a wonderfully strange Halloween story. So happy Halloween!

Carlos stared solemnly at the collection of tentacles that had, at some point in the night, burst through the vent in his living room and which were now undulating futilely in the direction of the coffee that was rapidly cooling in his hand. He could hear movement behind him, but was completely unable to pull his attention away from their wiggling, gelatinous strangeness. Cecil came up beside him, and the small part of Carlos’ mind that wasn’t absorbed in wondering what, if anything, spontaneous wall tentacles would do to his security deposit, was glad that it was just Cecil, and not more tentacles. 

“Those are lovely tentacles,” Cecil said jovially, “Although I’m not sure they quite compliment your sofa.” Carlos closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. When he opened them again Cecil was still there, smiling contentedly, and so too were the tentacles, which now appeared to be attempting to steal his television. 

Cecil was right, that shade of purple did nothing for the room.


	2. In a Cup Darkly

“Cecil,” said Carlos worriedly, “I just don’t understand these readings. They are clearly saying nothing is happening. And my computer just says, ‘there is no such thing as ghosts.’”  
“No,” agreed Cecil over the howling and the clanking of unseen chains, “I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re a government conspiracy.” A chair hurtled across the room and stacked itself neatly on top of the teetering pile of kitchen appliances and bric-a-brac that had been accumulating by the counter for the past few minutes. 

“We should probably just stop knowing about it. If we were meant to know about it the Sheriff’s Secret Police would have issued some sort of statement,” Cecil said, pointedly ignoring the “GET OUT” that was being scrawled on the wall next to them in what Carlos itched to confirm was blood. He wanted to take more readings, to investigate this phenomenon further, but he had learned some time ago that it was generally better to follow Cecil’s lead where Night Vale’s general weirdness was concerned.

Cecil made to take a sip of his tea, but the cup was slapped from his hand by an unseen force. He shrugged delicately, utterly composed. 

“I’ve never really liked Starbucks anyways,” he said, rising from the table, “it’s important that we support local businesses, after all.” And with that he left the restaurant, head held high, deftly dodging the whirlwind of overpriced scones that had arisen by the coffee alcove. Carlos set down his mostly-full coffee, which had turned to blood about five minutes after he had received it, and hurried after Cecil.


	3. The Most Dangerous Game

When the doorbell rang, Carlos got up to answer it without a second thought. He was halfway down the hall before he was tackled by Cecil, who dragged him to the floor and pinned him there.  
“What,” said Cecil, voice barely above a whisper, face inches from Carlos', “do you think you are doing?”  
“Answering the door?” said Carlos, more than a little confused but gamely whispering back, trusting Cecil to have his reasons.  
“Why on Earth would you do that?” asked Cecil, aghast. “We both know what’s out there,” here his voice dropped dangerously, took on a venomous, disgusted tone, " _trick-or-treaters_ ”  
“And this is a bad thing,” Carlos said, not quite a question, letting his voice rise in volume unintentionally in his confusion. Cecil pressed a finger over his mouth immediately  
“Shh,” he hissed, “they’ll hear you!” Carlos shook his head slightly to dislodge Cecil’s finger.  
“What will happen if they hear us?” he whispered, feeling the familiar flood of fear through his body that only Night Vale in its infinite strangeness could incur.  
“They’ll ask us for candy,” Cecil said, voice filled with dread, eyes wide with fear, “ _and I forgot to buy any this year_.”


End file.
